


Ruin, as it comes to me

by asuralucier



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dormouse Fat, F/M, Going Mad Amidst Abyssal Whispering, If You think It's Alive it Probably Is, Insomnia, Love in the Time of Horror and Misery, Massage, POV First Person, Unnamed Male Heir/Narrator, Weird but Consensual, canon-typical overwrought narration, gothic horror, leeches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23821150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuralucier/pseuds/asuralucier
Summary: I was desperate for sleep. At this point, I think I might have tried anything. I said as much to the Plague Doctor, Paracelsus, and she suddenly looked. . .interested.“Anything?”(Wherein a guileless young heir looks for a cure.)
Relationships: Heir/Plague Doctor (Darkest Dungeon)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: Minigame: Round 1





	Ruin, as it comes to me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nan/gifts).



According to the papers left behind by my Ancestor, the dilapidated hamlet which surrounded the family estate used to be a veritable pit stop on the main route into the city. Though we’d fallen wide of the mark since, a remnant of such importance could still be detected in the tavern, which never seemed to run out of beer. 

However, this could just be due to the fact that the innkeeper knew that his guests would drink anything short of poisoned swamp water. The beer he pulled for me that night was a sickly yellow-brown, with hardly any head. It also gave off a strong, rancid smell, but he assured me with a dim smile that “no one has yet died from the grog, my Lord.” 

I thanked him and left the bar. His contempt for me no longer bothered me, as I’d recently lost that part of my mind. 

Then, I spotted her at a corner table. She sat alone, with a drink that was probably fortified wine, judging by the petite shape of the glass. I wondered if it was as awful as my beer. I went over and sat. She barely moved. Despite being shrouded by shadow, there was a slight sliver of light that illuminated the smooth whiteness of her mask. This did not seem to stop her from enjoying her drink. 

“I hear you’ve been having trouble sleeping, my Lord.” 

Her voice unsettled me; it was deeper than I expected and yet melodious. 

Outside of the time I spent at the tavern, which was a fair amount of time, I was alone. The Manor where I’d taken up residence some weeks prior lived up to its name. I mean, I had never in my life been to a small manor. My new residence was no exception. It had sprawling corridors and vast, empty rooms, their high ceilings more a sign of the abyss than any real luxury. 

Some of the rooms were perennially locked. I asked the Caretaker about one of them, the one closest to my quarters. Wordlessly, he just handed me a set of heavy keys and left without further response. 

I hadn’t been sleeping well when I lived in the city, either. When I consulted a physician about this problem, he’d suggested I relocate to the country, for a slower change of pace.

Except now here I was. My bedroom was located at the heart of the manor, as to be defensible. There were no windows, no chance for me to be awakened by the cacophony of carriages or drunkards carousing outside of my window at an ungodly hour. No, what troubled me now were the voices I heard from the house. In daylight, they were muted, but at night, my head swarmed with a strange language from the cracks and crannies of old, peeling walls. The voices usually reached a fever pitch when I lay in my bed.

I was desperate for sleep. At this point, I think I might have tried anything. I said as much to the Plague Doctor, Paracelsus, between sips of terrible beer, and she suddenly looked. . .interested. 

"Anything?" 

Paracelsus accompanied me home, after that. She refused payment in gold, but said she would like it very much if she could have her own room in the Manor. She'd come from a certain University in the city, and there, privacy had to be earned. There was clear disdain in her voice and I hurriedly agreed. If she thought there was anything strange about the squirreling ground beneath her feet as we approached the entrance of the Manor, she said nothing. I opined without being asked, that it was probably gophers. 

The whispers assaulted me as soon as we entered and at once, my hands flew to my ears. 

Paracelsus just watched me. "Is this your Ancestral home?" 

I nodded. "He's a distant relation. An uncle of some sort, I think." 

I was down to my last sleep sachet from my physician in the city. They didn't help quell the whispers, but when I warmed some water to make a pot of tea, the powder would dissolve at once. I never tasted anything, but still drank the concoction hurriedly in one gulp. It made me drowsy and gave me a little respite. 

Paracelsus didn't look impressed. "City medicine," she scoffed, "they don't do a thing. Well, except to bleed one's wallet, I suppose. There are better ways to bleed, my Lord. Healthier ways." She knocked the cup out of my hand and instructed that I should instead lie back on my bed. The porcelain hit the carpet in a dull thud, and did not break. 

I complied, and from her worn, black medical bag Paracelsus got out a vial. Its contents were the color of disease. I knew in my logical mind, that disease had no color and to think this way was absurd. And yet.

I did tell you, didn't I? That I was losing my mind. 

"Have a sniff, my Lord." Paracelsus held the vial enticingly under my nose. I held my breath for as long as I could, and then finally took a breath of disease. I smelled nothing, but a strange calm washed over me at once, and I thanked her. 

She said, "Well, you did say you'd try anything, my Lord." 

I replied that yes, I did say that. And I meant it, too. 

After that, she set upon my body large, thirsty leeches that burrowed its way under my dressing gown. Paracelsus stroked my hair almost gently, and said her leeches knew best how to bleed bad vapors from any body. They'd suck the sleeplessness right out of me, and then I could sleep.

I was frightened enough, and so keen to stay very still to let the leeches do their good work, that I forgot about the voices in the walls. 

Paracelsus tried a different remedy on me every night. She seemed to enjoy herself greatly, humming quietly to herself as she worked.

One remedy, known simply as Experiment No. 40, was so effective that I slept for two days straight. Perhaps I was so terrified or in so awe of its effectiveness, that I didn't want to wake up. Paracelsus said the last person she'd tried it on had died, but quite by accident. She had nothing but the utmost respect for the the Hippocratic Oath she had taken, even if she hadn't finished her studies.

Paracelsus didn't sound too concerned about the matter in the end, and so I wasn't, either.

Paracelsus was rubbing what she claimed was dormouse fat all over my body. Such practice was out of fashion now, but it used to be the most fashionable thing, even recommended by the Queen's physician himself. Paracelsus had started with the soles of my feet, worked her way up my thighs, up the broad muscles of my back, although as she touched me there, I was reminded that I really ought to eat more.

"Don't you have other patients, Paracelsus?" I wondered dreamily, arching back into her clever hands. While I would have thought her hands were going to be overworked and rough, they were exactly the opposite. Yet though her palms were soft and her fingers nimble, her hands also possessed a secret strength. Paracelsus was always surprising me.

She looked amused and she reached to turn my head back into my emaciated goose-down pillow. "I prefer it when my patients trust me, my Lord, that's the thing I hate the most about the city. No, I don't have other patients. Also, it's difficult to really practice when I'm without a degree. But a degree also means. . ." she trailed off and pressed a chaste kiss near the curve of my neck,"that I'm consigning myself to the scientific doldrums. I hate that more than anything."

The voices laughed. I had no idea why they were laughing. What was more important was that sleep, now blissfully familiar to all of my limbs, was moving to cover my mind—or what was left of it.

"Don't laugh at me, my Lord," Paracelsus chided with a hard pinch to my half-hard cock. It was probably meant to hurt me, but it didn't.

"I wasn't laughing," I said. "I'm just relieved, that you'll always be here to look after me. Oh, won't you, Paracelsus? The voices like you at last; you can hear them now, can't you? You can stay. You can stay!" For the moment, I was so deliriously happy.


End file.
